Jayden Lewis was clearly taken aback. He lowered his gaze, his lips pressed in a thin line, as if he had wrestled with a decision for a long time.

“Lilah, considering your family’s current situation, my parents would never approve.”

“But rest assured, I won’t leave you. I’ll take care of you for the rest of your life.”

“Jayden.” I called his name softly, and when he finally looked up at me, I smiled gently.

“Do you know what I’m most thankful for right now?”

“What’s that?”

“I’m thankful that we never got involved deeply.”

“I’m thankful that the baby I’m expecting isn’t yours.”

“Lilah…”

Jayden's eyes showed undeniable panic. I took a couple of steps back. “Don’t come looking for me again.”

“Don’t make me regret ever having feelings for someone like you.”

I grabbed my suitcase and turned to leave, but Jayden persisted.

“Lilah, where can you go in your current condition?”

“You’ve never had to work hard your entire life. How will you manage outside of New York, away from me?”

I suddenly turned around, letting go of my suitcase, and showed him my calloused hands.

“With these hands, Lilah Rivera won't go hungry.”

In the distance, the town's Thanksgiving parade was about to start. Floats and marching bands were gathering, and the scent of spiced honey cake floated through the air, mingling with the aroma of fresh coffee from a nearby café. The brisk autumn air was invigorating, crisp and full of promise, much like the kind you'd find in the Alps.

Jayden was wearing a Victorian-style suit, a sarcastic nod to his family’s old-fashioned values. I held my head high, gripping the handle of my suitcase as I walked towards the life I was determined to build on my own.

Jayden Lewis stood there, eyes vacant and his entire body trembling. I had never seen him like this before. In our circle, he was always the most carefree, the one who couldn't care less about rules and authority. Wherever he went, he stood out as the proudest and the most rebellious among us.

In my youthful naivety, I secretly wished more than once. I wished that Jayden would notice me, treat me a bit better. I wished for Selah Martin to stay far away from him, not to return and disrupt whatever connection we had. I dreamt of marrying Jayden Lewis.

If, on any given day, he had smiled at me, just adjusted his attitude a bit, I would have forgotten every grievance and tear, and continued to revolve around him tirelessly, unfailingly. But now, he couldn't let go of me. Now, he was the one pleading with me not to leave. Finally, I mattered to him. Yet all I felt was absurdity, an indescribable disgust and revulsion.

"Lilah..." Jayden reached for my hand, but just as he was about to touch me, his hand froze in the air. His hands were the hands of a spoiled playboy. Once upon a time, mine were as well.

But now, my hands were twisted at the joints, scarred, with calluses where blisters used to be. They weren't pretty anymore, but they were stronger. Like flowers once nurtured in a controlled environment, when taken outside, they don't necessarily wilt away.

Dragging my suitcase into the airport terminal, I suddenly felt a discomfort in my lower abdomen. Perhaps the heated argument earlier had taken too much of an emotional toll. Or maybe my body was just too worn out from the stress of recent days. As a warm sensation rushed through me, my vision blurred, and the world seemed to spin. Suddenly, I collapsed softly to the floor.

In my final moments of consciousness, I heard several voices calling my name, all jumbled together. But soon, all the sounds disappeared, leaving a silence as still as a frozen lake.

When I opened my eyes again, the stark white of the surroundings pierced my vision. The sharp scent of antiseptic filled my nose, and the beeping of machines surrounded me. Instinctively, I tried to touch my abdomen, but a gentle hand softly stopped me: "Miss Rivera, don’t worry, the baby is fine."

"And you are?"

I stared blankly at the middle-aged woman before me. Her features were ordinary, but her eyes were kind. Her clothing seemed a bit out of place, and her English was spoken with a noticeable accent. I vaguely felt as though I had seen her somewhere before, but couldn’t immediately place her.

"Mr. Rivera has been informed," she said, smoothing the blanket over me, "and he’s on his way here."

I nodded, as my muddled mind slowly cleared. Mr. Rivera... Could it be him? We had agreed, no more meetings, no further entanglements.

Yet, here I was, pregnant, unknowingly breaking those unspoken rules. I knew nothing of Mr. Rivera’s background, but from his attire and lifestyle, it was obvious he came from a world I couldn’t even imagine. That morning after everything, as he dressed to leave, he casually asked if I wanted to join him in the future.

Given my circumstances at the time, following him seemed like the best option. But I refused. I no longer wanted to be someone who relied on others. He didn’t make things difficult for me when I turned him down; he even offered me some money, which I refused. He saved my life, and a night spent together seemed like enough to settle our debts.

For the next three months, I didn’t see him again. I dealt with hardship and learned how to survive on my own, how to be frugal. I learned to read people, shedding my spoiled and thoughtless ways. During the toughest times, I cried and regretted things. There were moments when I could barely move and thought about going back to Moises Rivera. But in the end, I stood my ground.

Relying on a man once meant a lifetime of being at a disadvantage. The Rivera family's financial decline meant I was no longer a privileged daughter. Returning to him with a Victorian-era mindset would only ensure a future of dependency. But I was determined not to live like that again.